Wounded Souls
by Noc007
Summary: The Saints have taken her in not knowing her past, but only the fact that they've seen her with someone the Twins are trying to get to. As they do, they will be sharing something that will not only help her but heal their own wounds.
1. Chapter One

_A/N: This is my second time reposting this story up. Unlike the last time, I now have a wonderful Beta, Becky, who took her time to proof read through the chapter. As I stated before, constructive criticism is appreciated and flames are not. So please read & review if you can. Hope you enjoy the reading!_

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**Chapter One**

After stumbling into the cold night, Isabel quickly regained her footing. The pain still throbbed through the right side of her arm where she had thrown her body against the door. She had expected it to open easily, but she didn't account for the fact that the door was being held closed from the outside.

The cold night's air that greeted her on the other side was refreshing compared to the cramped room she had escaped from. She was now in an alley, which was just as dark as the cloud covered sky. She had no destination to get to but her main goal was to get as far away as she possibly could without being caught. Sprinting toward the street, she turned left.

Her heart was ready to burst out of her chest after running three blocks without stopping. Her legs have been screaming at her to stop. She didn't want to stop but she had no other choice. Panting, she leaned against a brick wall. Looking up at the sky, she wished that she could see the stars. They were a sight she had once admired so long ago.

She did not want to stay in the open, so she quickly jogged into an alley that was next to the building where she had stopped to catch her breath. Unlike the alley she had just left, this one had lights although they were dimmed by the grime that covered the lightbulbs. She had no idea where she was, but she didn't care. She knew she'd resolve that fact later on.

Just when she reached the middle of the semi-darkened alley, she saw the faint outline of a person at the other end. She was about to turn around and run when she heard a familiar click.

"You thought you could easily get away from us that easily, didn't you, princess?"

She didn't respond, quickly putting her hand in the front pocket of her jeans. The rings where still there, buried safely deep inside. That's all she needed; all she could take from them. It was nothing compared to what they had taken away from her.

"Make one move and I'll shoot," he voiced, "Tony will understand, especially when you have taken what does not belong to you."

Antonio, she thought. Even the mention of that name made her sick. She couldn't believe that God, if there was one, would let such a foul monster live. But He did and He did not exist.

"Although Gordo is a fat ass, it does not mean he's useless."

Such ominous words could only mean one thing, quickly turning around, she came face to face with the man she had sneaked past earlier. Such an awful grin on his large face made her extremely uncomfortable.

"_Hola_," he said right before she was pistol-whipped on the side of her forehead, knocking her out.

**.-.-.-.-.-.  
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A throbbing pain at the side of her head woke her up. It was only then a powerful headache reared its ugly head. She reached toward the source of the throbbing only to feel what was apparently a bandage. That was something that hadn't been there before. Quickly, she opened her eyes to yet another world of darkness.

She realized then that she was laying in a bed. That could only mean one thing. She slowly sat up, not wanting to make her headache worsen by getting up too quickly. Her hope soon disappeared as she realized that she was not in a hospital room.

Her heart started to speed up once more, realizing that those men had been the last people she'd seen and that they had obviously brought her back to the hell hole she had failed to escape from. If they had, why wasn't she tied up? If she wasn't, then that only meant that they were right outside. An uneasy feeling started rising in the pit of her stomach. This was not good, not good at all.

She got up and walked toward the door. She had been thrown inside and kept in a dark room (except during the day when the sunlight streamed in), so she knew where everything was. Instead of feeling the door as she expected, she felt a wall. That must mean that she was taken into another part of the house or moved into another building.

Fumbling around the wall, she tried to feel around for the light switch. When she finally found, she switched it on. The whole room was illuminated in the bright light that originated from the naked bulb that was hanging from the ceiling. What she saw was nothing she had expected.

There were two small unkempt beds across from where she was standing. She did not have any idea which one she had woken up on but she was thankful that she didn't bump into any of the furniture that was around, not that there was a lot. Besides the night tables next to each bed, there was nothing of real interest in the room. No decorations whatsoever. At least until her eyes fell upon a hanging rosary. There was nothing special about it, it was much like the many rosaries she had seen before all the shit she had went through. Turning away from it, she looked toward the door.

Unless Tony had made one of his men lock her in one of their sleeping quarters, everything looked unimportant. The door was likely locked but she had to know. The knob easily turned, followed shortly by a soft click. Her hand let go of the knob as if a current had shocked her. A sign that should have given her hope, just made her nervous. Hope had failed her several times and she was not going to start believing in it again.

She heard whispers coming from outside. The voices were low, which was not surprising, but she couldn't understand what the people were talking about. Placing her ear next to the keyhole, she managed to distinguish two voices.

"You're tha one who saw the fuckin' car!" one of them exclaimed in earnest.

"I didn' get a clear view of it." The other replied, his voice much calmer than the other's.

"Tha girl must know," the first one said, his voice taking on a softer tone.

Isabel pulled away from the keyhole, staring at it as if it she was seeing if for the first time in her life. They were talking about _them_. They are assuming she knows _them_. She knows _them_ alright. The monsters that had destroyed her life. Now those guys out there wanted her help in finding_ them_? Not even under the orders of God himself would she ever return there. Quickly, she ran toward the light switch, turning it off and letting her world become bathed in the darkness she had awoken to.

She had expected light to spill in from the outside from the crack where she had left the door open, but there was nothing. She still wasn't sure where she was but she assumed that those who were speaking where either in an open space or farther down the hall.

Although those people outside were not Tony's men (she had never heard any of his men speak in the accent that the other two obviously had), she still could not trust them nor her surroundings. For all she knew they could be the enemies of those she had run away from. Although it didn't explain why they would tend to her injuries. It didn't matter, they still were not to be trusted.

Walking over to the door once more, she waited to hear them speak again. Silence was her only answer. Could they possibly have left; leaving her behind with a way for her to escape? Either they were not the smartest people, or she was in a much more dangerous environment. Opening the door, she quietly slipped out.

Her eyes had already adjusted to the dark, so she could easily see the faint outline of another door across from where she was standing. The door was ajar but nothing was coming from inside. It must be another room, Isabel thought as her hand felt the small bulge the rings made in her pocket. At least they didn't take away the only thing she needed to survive, monetarily speaking.

After walking down the hall, if that's what you could call it, she came upon a large wide open area. If this was the living room, then that could mean she was only a few feet away from her escape. Though this time she did not have an idea where that damned door could be.

"I thought ye'd be in bed, with that headache I'm sure ye have."

She stopped and quickly turned towards the direction of the voice. There was the soft click of a lamp being turned on and she was once again covered in light. Blinking, her eyes tried to adjust themselves to the new surroundings.

There was not much to see. The room was partially empty, except for the two men who were occupying the only seating in the room. The lighter haired one, although not blonde exactly, was laying on the sofa. An arm was resting over his eyes, obviously shielding them from the light of the lamp that was near him. The one who turned on the lamp, the one whose hair was a bit darker than the other, watched her.

"I've had worse, thank you." she said, looking over both of them.

"Have you now?" the one in the sofa asked whilst propping himself up into a seated position.

That was one of the things Isabel did not expect to be asked. Usually the guys would make a smart-ass comment before taking care of business. These two, they were another deal altogether. Plus, having them stare at her did not made her at all comfortable.

"You are asking as if you are expecting an answer," she told him, feeling the wall pressed up against her back.

The two of them exchanged a glance before one spoke, "Ye already did answer, ya know."

She scoffed, "I do not know who you two are, but I do not need to be here."

"I'm Connor," the one on the sofa said, "and that's Murphy." Motioning to the only other man in the room. "I'm sorry to say, but ye won't be able to leave." he stated nonchalantly.

"'Specially so with what happened back in the alley." Murphy continued, as he pushed himself off his seat. "Now if ye don' mind, I'll be getting meself to bed."

Isabel was dumbfounded as she watched Murphy walk by. It was as if they just had finished having a consensual meeting between themselves. She knew she wasn't dealing with the same people she had escaped from, but she hadn't expected them to be as laid-back as they were.

_Who were they? _

It finally dawned on Isabel that these two had not only saved her, if that's what you could call it, but they also must have killed her captors or she couldn't possibly be here. They weren't ordinary people, they were something entirely different and she wasn't exactly calmed down by that idea.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

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"Might as well get yerself comfortable," Connor interrupted her thoughts, to which she had turned her attention to.

He was observing her when she turned to look at him. Even then, he still kept staring. She furrowed her eyebrows as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, "I'm fine where I am."

"Suit yerself." He said, raising his arms to rest behind his head.

His smugness was irritating her, especially so when they were acting (or he was at least) as if she was a long time friend. Not wanting to give him that satisfaction, she quickly moved over to the recently vacated seat and sat down. The speed with which she'd moved caused her headache to resurface once more.

"I can bring ye some Tylenol, if ya wish." He asked her, "I know those headaches are a killer."

"Since you're offering, I might as well take." She passively agreed, rubbing the side of her forehead that wasn't injured.

As he walked past her, she noticed the front door. Quickly, she got up from her seat and ran toward it. Her hand had turned the knob and was about to pull it open when she felt someone grab her waist and pull her away from the door.

"Let me go!" She ordered, feeling his body against hers. Elbowing him in his side, she felt his grip loosen for a second, only for him for regain his grasp on her.

"We told ya you couldn't leave," he whispered insistently in her ear. She struggled to get away from him, but his grasp on her was too strong so she did the only thing she could think to do. She kicked him in the shins. With a loud curse, he let her go.

Although she expected him to step away, he quickly moved, blocking her only exit. His face showed a mixture of surprise and annoyance. _Good_, she thought. She wanted to show him that she was not pleased with their decision of making her stay.

"I cannot stay here" she fumed, observing his stance. "I don't even fuckin' know where I am nor who you are."

"We tol--"

"Your names that is!" she exclaimed, her hands curling into fists out of desperation. "I cannot really believe you two just easily beat them, like that." She snapped her fingers in front of his face before turning away.

"So what happened back there wasn't just a random attack?"

"Does it even matter?" she asked, her voice mocking his tone.

"Aye."

"No, it was not." She admitted, glancing over her shoulder toward the man she had just been angry with seconds ago. The throbbing of the side of her forehead was starting again but she did not want him to notice. Rather, she walked over to the couch and sat down.

Seconds later, he walked up to her with a small white bottle in one hand and a glass of water in the other. "Take one."

She looked at it, before looking up at him. His eyes met with hers and she quickly looked away. "It'll go away on its own."

"Stop being stubborn and take the damned thing." He insisted, holding the glass and bottle out to her.

Without looking up at him, she took them except for the small bottle, which he pulled away before handing it to her. He opened the top and tipped out two pills, which he handed over. She grabbed them from him and slipped them into her mouth before gulping down the water.

"It's two already, long ways from mornin'." He said, sitting himself down in the empty chair next to the lamp. "Why don't ya get back to bed?"

She looked at the empty glass, which she was twirling in her hands. "I'm not taking your bed. I'll just stay here."

An exasperated sigh was heard before he spoke, "I'm offering the bed, for Christ's sake! If I didn't want ya to sleep, I wouldn't have offered, would I?"

She clenched her jaw before answering. "You should stop insisting. I'm not a guest."

"Fine, fine, the bed will stay empty."

There was a small click and the room was cast into darkness.

As much as she wanted to, she would not be laying down on the couch. She was tired, yes, but she did not want to fall asleep while Connor was only a couple of feet away from her. Rather, she tried to make herself as comfortable as possible while in a seated position. There was not a chance now for an escape what with having him close by.

"What's yer name?" he asked, hidden somewhere in the darkness of the room.

Although she didn't felt threatened by Connor, she did not trust him enough to give her true name. Instead, she replied with her middle name. "Victoria."

"A fine name."

She didn't say anything as she pulled her legs up to her chest. "Well, thanks." she finally whispered back.

.-.-.-.-.-.

Isabel or Victoria as she'd asked to be called, woke up with a sudden start from where she slept. Although she'd told herself that she wouldn't sleep laying down, in the end that's how she'd ended up. After stretching, she sat up.

She'd expected to see Connor where she had last seen him, though fortunately (or not), he wasn't there. There was not a sound coming from the kitchen or much less from anywhere else. The actions of last night were still fresh in her mind; although she did what she had done out of necessity, she couldn't help but to feel guilty. Yet, it still confused her as to why they had insisted she stay. They had no idea who she was nor did she care to divulge it to them, just to be on the safe side.

Her head was not bothering her as much as it had earlier, and she thanked the Tylenol as well as murmuring a thanks to Connor. Getting up, she walked toward the hall. Halfway though, she turned back to look at the door. If neither Connor or Murphy were here, then she could just leave. The idea that had once sounded promising was suddenly turned into an uncertain one. Perhaps they had a reason why she shouldn't leave. She did not like the idea that they knew more about her than she did about herself, concerning this situation, anyway.

After continuing on her way, she stopped between the two rooms. The door to the room she had been earlier was opened a couple of inches, although she didn't need to see inside it to know that Murphy would be inside. She then turned to the other door.

There was nothing special about the room, after all, it was just a bathroom. It was as empty as the living room and the bedroom. The two either had just moved in or they seriously had nothing to their name. Turning to the mirror, she stared at herself but mainly at the bandage on her forehead.

Which one of the two had treated her?

Standing close to the counter, and as close to the mirror as possible, she began pulling off the bandage by the edges. After she had gotten one edge of the bandage free, she opened the flap to observe the wound. There was a cut, not deep enough to require stitches but enough for it to have bled. Besides that, there was a very ugly bruise surrounding it.

"Connor treated that, good thing ya weren't fully conscious when he did."

_Great, that only adds to the guilt,_ she thought without turning to see where Murphy was standing.

"He isn't necessarily known for his gentleness when treating wounds," he continued, walking up to her. She stepped backwards. "Nor is there a reason for ye to be afraid." He told her, curiously observing.

"Better caution than not." she replied, looking back at the mirror. She looked quite comical with the bandage just hanging there. With a quick tug, the bandage finally came off. Unfortunately, the skin surrounding it was tender, and she winced when she removed it.

"Can I have a look at that?"

She looked at his reflection in the mirror, a quizzical expression on her face.

"I heard the commotion ye had with Connor earlier," he commented, looking at her own reflection, "and I do not wish to go through with one if ya planning to throw one at me."

She tried not to grin over his comment but failed. "I would say let me be, but I know you two won't."

"It's nece--"

"--ssary, I know." she finished, looking at the bandage she still held in her hands.

"So, can I have a look?"

There was no question as to what he meant, referring to the injury she had sustained last night. He stepped closer to her when she'd finally agreed to let him have a look. She tried not to stare at him as he did whatever he needed to do, which no matter what it was, she'd already deemed it unnecessary. Having him that close did not make her comfortable either.

"Its healing," he informed her, stepping away. "Ya can cover it with yer hair if ya wish."

"What for if I'm not allowed to _leave_?" she asked, stressing the last word. It was more of an accusation than a question.

Before he could reply, she walked around him and out of the door.


	3. Chapter Three

_**Author's Note: **I am fully aware that I have not updated this story in quite some time, which is obviously my fault. I do not plan for it to take such a long time in updating it (after this update), but the Beta that I've been working with has suddenly disappeared. Of course, that will not stop me from updating. In case any one of you are interested in becoming a Beta for this story, let me know, for it will be appreciated!_

_Now to the story!

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**Chapter Three**

Sitting at the end of the sofa with her arm resting against her forehead, Victoria couldn't help but ponder the recent happenings. Connor and Murphy brought her here, apparently for her safety, which she still didn't have an explanation for. Connor had left for God knows where, and Murphy was still somewhere out of sight. The two of them wanted her to feel like at home or at least she was being treated as a guest, which she considered unwanted attention. Hadn't it occurred to them that she might need to call someone, ignoring the fact that she really didn't since there was no one to call, but still the idea was there.

So what was left for her to do? Why did they assume she'd be cool with this?

Minutes passed by before Murphy walked into the living room. He merely glanced over at her before entering the kitchen.

"Coffee?" He called out to her.

"No," she replied while turning to look over at the TV set. If she was a guest, then she might as well… Getting up, she walked over to the television set.

She couldn't find the remote control, so she had to turn it on manually. In a second the black screen was filled with the colorful sight of a weather broadcast.

"_…there is a seventy-five percent chance of rain here in Boston, while the rest of the sta--"_

_Boston? _She asked herself while not moving away from the television. How long had she been here? Counting backwards from when she first moved into the house, remembering that she had tried to escape last night, she came to the conclusion that she must have been at least a week. Seven days before that she was… she grimaced, frustrated that she couldn't even remembered the days before that. They all had been a blur. The last place she remembered being in was in Pennsylvania, but that was where she had lived. That was where it all started.

"_…earlier this morning, two bodies of known crooks were found. Both of the men were fatally wounded by unknown assailants. It is unknown whether the assault was related to the killings of the Pantonzi brothers earlier this week, who were known to be connected to the Italian mob. What separates these two cases is the fact that these two victims are connected to "La Eme", a known branch of the Mexican Mafia. Federal police are still investigating the case…"_

"We had an idea that was 'em"

She was so deeply engrossed in the story that the voice of someone behind her practically made her heart skip a beat. "I…uh…" she started, clearing her throat, hoping that he hadn't seen that.

"Jumpy, aren't ya?" Murphy asked, standing at the entrance into the kitchen.

"_Solamente nervios_," she muttered as she sat back down on the couch. She brought her hands up to cover her face as she leaned against her knees.

_"_Only nerves, eh?"

Her hands parted to look at the man across the room. "You speak Spanish?"

"Aye."

That was the very last thing she expected of him, after all, he was, to put it bluntly… white. Plus with that Irish accent, it was likely that English was his second language, so how many others could he possibly know? "I've already asked Connor and since I didn't get an answer from him, I'll ask you."

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Go on then."

"Who the hell are you two?"

A minute of silence must have passed by as the two of them stared at each other. She was waiting for an answer, and he obviously didn't know the answer or didn't care to say it. It was more likely the latter.

She let out a laugh, "God," she cried out, looking away for a second before turning to look back at him. "You're not going to tell me, right?"

He shrugged.

A sarcastic smile replaced her solemn look, "You just admitted that you had an idea who they were." Pointing at the television where a commercial was now taking place, "Those weren't just ordinary people."

"No, they ain't. If they were, then they would not 'ave done what they do best."

So the two knew who _they _were, but how far into the hierarchy did they know? After all, those men were either as infamous as the Italian mafia or perhaps even worse. Which wasn't a good thing.

"You guys are not going to tell me the truth, are you?"

He exhaled, as he looked up at the ceiling; he was not contemplating the question, she could see that clearly. "I'm 'fraid not."

This was hopeless! He was obviously not taking her seriously. With a glare, she crossed her arms and leaned back against the couch, turning her sight away from him.

A noise came from the front door, and she turned her attention to it. A couple of seconds later, Connor walked in, wearing a black pea coat. He stopped halfway into the room, looking at the two of them. With a bemused smile, he asked "Don't tell me ya two jus' finished a party without me."

"As a matter of fact, I just had a joyful conversation with the lass." Murphy grinned before he turned around to tend to the coffee pot that was calling for his attention.

Victoria kept her mouth shut, as Connor turned to her. "Ye didn't give him a poundin', did ya?"

"Would that have worked?" she asked, not entirely joking.

He was about to reply when Murphy called for his attention. "Where were ya?"

"The cemetery," his voice taking on a solemn note as he walked in to join Murphy. That part of their conversation they wanted her to have nothing to do with.

_Cemetery?_ she asked herself. It was common sense that these two had a life she didn't know other than all of this, but obviously they weren't planning on sharing it if the two had not wanted her to be an earshot away from this ongoing conversation. That was only fair, after all she didn't want to share the last chapter of her life with them.

Nibbling on her lower lip, she laid back against the couch. It was then that she felt her stomach grumble and she let out a quiet groan. She had shown her disapproval towards the two in the last couple of hours, and the last thing she wanted to do was ask about breakfast.


End file.
